Brief Pause
by Halia Stone
Summary: "Damon had a pattern of falling into old habits. But he was taking a break…" Extended from the Datherine kiss scene in 3x05


Road. All Damon could see in front of him in the glow of his Camaro's headlights was _road_. And he was sick to death of it. Maybe he should've taken Katherine's earlier suggestion to pull into a rest stop.

"We've been driving around aimlessly for hours," he declared in a bored sounding voice, "Where are we going?" he asked her.

"Far enough away so that you can't go running back," she responded cryptically.

"Not to worry," he reassured her, "Mystic Falls and I are on a bit of a break." he added, his hands tightening around the steering wheel as he fleetingly thought about his fight with Elena.

"You and Mystic Falls, or you and Elena?" Katherine asked in a knowing tone, as if she had read his mind, angling herself in her seat to look at him with a raised eyebrow.

As he turned a corner, Damon felt her fingers reach across and lightly dance up his thigh. "Let's just say Elena and I are having a bit of difference of opinion on how I should behave," he informed her, trying to play the non-plussed card as Katherine's fingers continued upwards.

Not that sneaking away with the girl's evil Doppelgänger would put him in her good books either. But, as much as he had to say about Katherine, she wasn't a stick in the mud; she knew how to have fun.

"Oooh," she sang, her eyes lighting up mischievously, "Let me guess…" His hand clenched around the steering wheel again as her hand brushed against his crotch and up his shirt a little, touching the bare skin of his stomach, "Elena wants you to be the hero," she said with a slight air of disgust.

That hand then began to stroke up his neck and Katherine's body heat was radiating against his own, her breath brushing against his ear. He didn't want to humor her, didn't want to—pun not intended—go down that road again, but he couldn't help give her a tiny glance.

"And you don't like playing pretend," she deduced in a breathy voice, her glossed lips now right beside his mouth.

Damon could just about keep control of the car as Katherine's fingers, ever-determined, began to curl under his jaw and edge his head towards her, his _lips_ towards hers. "Something like that, yeah," he said dismissively.

His mind was beginning to fog as Katherine's perfume and overall scent filled his nostrils, her mouth pressing little kisses to his jawline and up the side of his face. He knew she was playing with him, knew she never loved him. She rarely did anything without reason, and this was clearly to amuse herself; to wrap the metaphorical marionette strings of his around her fingers.

"Her loss."

Then her hands were cupping his face and Damon heard a loud screeching sound as his hands spasmed around the wheel. He gained enough control over the steering wheel to jerk it and swerve the car to a rough stop as Katherine climbed into his lap and, fuck, pressed her lips down against his and kissed him desperately, messily, kissing him like she was drowning and he was her oxygen.

Damon broke away just long enough to groan out a stunned, "Katherine," past his swollen, sticky lips.

She was still so close, incredibly close; her eyes determined and pupils blown-dark. "If it helps," she breathed, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth, and damn her because Damon kissed back, "pretend I'm her," she added encouragingly.

His eyes narrowed and he pulled Katherine's hair back so hard when she leaned in for another kiss she let out a sharp gasp, the sound going straight to his groin. _Her… _She was not a part of this; was not going to grace his thoughts for the rest of the duration of this road trip to… wherever the hell Katherine was taking him.

_Katherine. Katherine_. God, she didn't love him, he knew that, but here she was offering and he was a simple man with simple needs. And right now, he needed to let off steam.

"If I wanted her, I wouldn't be here," he declared with a slight growl edging his voice.

She grinned above him like a Cheshire Cat, then Damon was kissing her back frantically, determined to wipe that grin off her face. She was grasping at his clothes and his shoulders, thrusting her tongue into his mouth. She groaned when he sucked on it and gripped her hair even tighter.

Damon growled lowly as Katherine pressed himself against the solid bulge of his erection—fuck, _yes_—breaking their kiss to drop his mouth to her throat, biting and sucking ruthlessly. She continued to moan against his neck, the delicious sound filling his ears, and grind their bodies together. He wrapped the hand that was in her hair around her shoulder, dropping the other to clutch the underside of Katherine's thigh.

Blood rushed south and he felt himself harden in his boxers, straining painfully against his clothes. He gasped into her skin and started thrusting against her harder, faster, his hand clenching convulsively, rhythmically, on her thigh. He swore as Katherine's human teeth stung against his throat, nipping and drawing blood.

Through all the pleasure pulsing through him, he felt Katherine's hands expertly working his belt and pulling his jeans down. He came to enough of his senses to use one hand to help her, pulling his boxers down past his thighs.

"Finally," she muttered against his mouth with an impatient tone as he was released from the constraint of his jeans and underwear.

Then her mouth was on his again, needy and demanding, it clearly making no difference at all to Katherine that she was still fully clothed; she continued to thrust, grind and roll against his achingly hard length, pressing him so hard into the driver's seat he had split-second visions of it breaking.

Yes, this was just what Damon needed. He was told to take a beat from Elena and that was exactly what he was doing. Nobody said sabbaticals needed to be boring. It didn't matter neither of them cared for each other the same way as once upon a time; all that mattered right now was good sex, and he was the first to say many things about Katherine, but she _was_ a good lay.

The sound of Katherine chuckling above him as he chased the feeling of her lips against his filled the car. She was hurriedly unbuttoning her jeans; Damon was impatient and tore them open, silencing Katherine's indignant "hey" with a searing kiss, pulling them down and lifting her up so she could push her underwear down.

The feeling of Katherine's arousal meeting his own as she sunk down on his erection made Damon curse loudly, throwing his head back against the headrest in total bliss. God… he really was a sucker for falling back into old, bad habits. It didn't take much of Katherine pushing herself upwards and sinking back down slowly on him before they established a rhythm between them, Damon digging his nails into any expanse of Katherine's flesh he had hold of to ground himself.

The pressure in his abdomen was building. He tangled a hand in her curls and pulled her head towards him, attacking her throat with kisses that had her gasping and writhing against him.

"Fuck," she said breathily, with feeling, "that's my Damon; I've missed this…" she purred, smirking at him for as long as she could before Damon wiped it off with another open-mouthed kiss, shoving his tongue into her mouth.

_None of that, fuck that_, he reminded himself, letting go of her hair to grab bruisingly onto both of her thighs and increase the speed she was moving, meeting her with rough thrusts of his own that caused her to cry out into his mouth. In retaliation, she cupped his face and dug her nails into the skin there.

"Don't—don't you dare stop," she choked out, as she broke away from his mouth, her hands now grabbing fistfuls of his shirt.

Damon chuckled. "Wasn't planning on it."

Katherine's gasps became frantic and she began to thrust against him more desperately; he grinned, knowing she was close to coming undone. He shuddered at the sound of the low moan she gave, his own abdomen pulling tight and his erection throbbing painfully inside her, then she was coming.

Her hips stuttered out of her control and she continued to press against him, chasing the friction she clearly needed, her nails tearing through his shirt and into his skin as she gasped through her full-bodied release. Damon growled into her neck at the brief sting of blood being drawn and continued to move and buck against her, twitching and groaning as he felt his own release _so_ goddamn close.

Apparently, Katherine's wrecked voice whispering filthy encouragement into his ear whilst her tongue was licking around the shell was all he needed; he came with another growl, spilling himself inside her. He continued to thrust until he was sure she was filled with every last drop, seeking out her lips and kissing her fiercely.

It was just as frenzied and desperate as the first time, and she kissed back with as much force as she could muster. The kisses gradually became slow, open-mouthed sucking kisses that reached down into Damon's chest and squeezed his heart like a fist.

Just like the last time, Katherine held the power to shatter it into pieces all over again. But she said nothing as they eventually stopped kissing and coiled themselves together on the seat for a solid couple of minutes.

The silence was filled with their heavy panting as they came down; Damon leaned back and closed his eyes, reveling in the aftermath of his orgasm thrumming through his body. He dared reach a hand up to tangle in Katherine's hair; she allowed it and curled into him a little more, tucking her head under his chin.

Briefly, he thought back to 1864; back to what had been a happier time for him and the liaisons they had in the middle of the night behind the lemon trees in the grounds of the mansion. Katherine had often let him play with her hair in post-coital bliss, both sticky with sweat and blood, and for a moment, Damon let himself be back in that moment when he thought she genuinely cared for him.

But just like then, the moment came to an end. They were here for a reason, as much as he wanted to pretend otherwise for just a little longer. He removed his hand from Katherine's hair and sat up as much as he was able to with her still on his lap.

She shifted on top of him, letting out a pleased groan. "Feel a little better?" she asked with a knowing, cat-like smirk on her face.

Damon was begrudged to admit he _did_. He just grunted, non-committal, waving a hand.

Her smirk increased as she leaned backwards, opening the drivers' side door. "I need to stretch my legs, take a break from the sexual tension," she declared with a snicker, and disappeared outside.

Damon just laid there on the seat, letting the cool night air waft over his over-heated skin. He had a brief smirk of his own on his lips; if Elena thought him killing and murdering people around her was annoying, he wondered what she would think of this.

But something was annoying _him_. Katherine knew him better than he wanted to admit, and she was up to _something_ that she knew he would have reservations—no matter how small—about, which was why she needed to put so much distance between him and Mystic Falls.

'_Far enough away that you can't go running back'_, she had said. Narrowing his eyes, he tucked himself back into his boxers and zipped his jeans up, all-but ripping the keys from the ignition and striding outside.

Katherine was a few feet away over by a picnic bench, sorting out her ruffled clothes. He walked up to her just as she pulled out a small compact mirror and began to touch up her smeared lip-gloss.

He couldn't even enjoy the fact that the great Katherine Pierce looked dishevelled and positively ruffled because he was so annoyed. "I'm done," he called to her as he walked closer.

She didn't even look at him, noticing his reflection in the small mirror. "What?"

"Driving," Damon clarified, "It's your turn," he said, holding the keys up and out to her.

Katherine sighed, something in her reflected brow twitching as she closed the compact and turned to him. He shook the keys gently, indicating he was serious. She shoved the compact in her back pocket with a scowl.

When her fingers brushed against the metal, Damon turned in a blur of air and tossed the keys as far as he could into the nearby undergrowth.

"Hey!" Katherine cried indignantly, whirling around in the direction the keys had been thrown with her arms thrown up in exasperation.

She opened and closed her mouth in shock, before gathering herself and angrily rounding on him. "What was _that_ for?" she demanded in a hiss, folding her arms.

"Why don't you tell me where we're _really_ going?" Damon needled her with a raise of his eyebrow. Then he folded his arms and said resolutely, "Or this little road trip gets cancelled," he added.

He could tell Katherine was weighing up in her head whether he was bluffing or not. She must've corrected deduced he wasn't, because after a pause she reluctantly said, "To find a weapon that can kill Klaus."

He wasn't about to insult Katherine by calling her stupid, but had she lost her mind? Trying to stand up against a power-hungry hybrid was suicidal. Surely the woman who had spent five hundred years running from one would've known that.

"He can't be killed," he pointed out, folding his arms. "None of them can," he added; Elijah's desiccated body had even been able to withstand a flamethrower. Not to mention there probably wasn't a vampire old enough within a ten-mile radius of Mystic Falls that was old enough to physically go head to head with any of them. What hope did they have?

But Katherine obviously seemed to think they had a little, as she had a secretive smile on her face. "Way back when, Pearl told me stories of this vampire-vampire hunter that even _Klaus_ was afraid of, and that she—"

A rattling sound from the trunk cut her off. Actually, Damon realised, it sounded more like thumping. He looked at her in confusion, and her face screwed up with a mock apologetic look.

"Oops," she said, unabashed, "D'you think he heard all that?" she asked, referencing their tryst with a smirk.

"Who?" Damon asked, a little unnerved that the entire time they had had a live person in the trunk of the car. Much less one that could have heard them having sex.

"Since Pearl is dead, we're gonna need our very own resident ghost-whisperer," Katherine informed him.

It didn't click for Damon what—or _who_—she was talking about until she headed over to the trunk and popped it open. Bundled inside was Jeremy Gilbert, unconscious and with a bloody wound on the side of his head.

Damon raised his eyebrows while Katherine continued to smirk. Oh _shit._

* * *

**Hope you enjoyed, comment/favorite/follow (even though I never get why people do that for oneshots) if you did, or even if you didn't and want to tell me it sucks, and I'll see you next time. :)**


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